


MDMA

by baileyjoy3



Category: Daft Punk
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Depression, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Homework Era, M/M, Near Death Experiences
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 12:55:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1745372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baileyjoy3/pseuds/baileyjoy3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the interview where Guy mentions saving Thomas' life when they were both on ecstasy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	MDMA

**Author's Note:**

> this is a three parter. very heavy, very hard to deal with. there's a lot of discussion of drug use, withdrawal from drug use, and the stuff that happens during that. i myself have never taken molly so i have no idea what this is like. but after research, reading about other peoples trips, and countless hours wondering if the NSA is going to hunt me down, i think this turned out pretty alright. the rating should stay about the same; the sex isn't the focus here. this is going to be from guy's point of view as he watches thomas go through this whole thing. try not to feel too sad. <3 thanks for reading!

Guy hasn't tried it. He refuses to try it. Doesn't want to go through the same things Thomas does when they don't go out for days on end and there's no one to give him a fix. He doesn't want to sit, losing weight until he finally gets over it, refusing to talk to anyone until there's food in his stomach and the promise of another pill a few days away. He doesn't want the cramps and hours on the toilet that Thomas yells at him about when Guy questions it.

He doesn't want to be addicted to a drug that leaves him as someone he isn't.

Thomas sits for days, refusing food, leaving his bed only to use the bathroom or tirelessly pace the room, his muscles tight and sore. Guy can't do anything when he's low. When Thomas does seek him out, his head finds Guy's lap, requesting his hair pet while he whines and complains about his aches, expressing his desire to die. Guy doesn't know what to do or how to help; he stopped expressing concern long ago. Thomas gets mad when he does, and he's never taken any action. "Tuesday Blues" they call it, Thomas has told him, something worth suffering through to get that fix.

Guy is desperate. He wants it to stop, doesn't want to keep watching Thomas rot away to dust, skin and bones, nothing more. But he can't. Thomas doesn't listen. He doesn't have up days. He has down days and high days, days where he's taken pills with a shot of vodka and thrown up on Guy's shoes. Guy watches him swing from high to low and never sees him sit at normal, loving Thomas that he grew up with, fell in love with, made an album with.

If you can't beat them, join them; right?

That is Guy's logic the night he takes one of the pills Thomas has offered him over and over. It makes his heart race before he even swallows it because Thomas surfaces for a moment, blinking at Guy like he's seen a ghost. It's a fleeting second of himself and Guy throws his head back to swallow his pill, crossing his arms as he waits for Thomas. Thomas grins and takes his own, more ecstatic about Guy joining him in his fix than the name of the drug itself.

Guy pins the sweating on the heat of the club and Thomas' proximity. He always gets clingy in clubs or when he's high. The need to move bleeds into his dancing and he grinds on Thomas in time to the music, panting into his mouth when Thomas kisses him. Guy doesn't think of the fact their in public, the drug doesn't care. It takes a few more minutes for things to get more intense. Sounds change and morph, color gets more intense, Thomas' eyes sparkle and the sweat on his face glows like diamonds. He's beautiful and Guy wants to fuck him. His brain is working fast, suddenly showing him every significant coupling they've had, telling him how long it will take to get home, how far their bed is from the door.

He slurs something dirty in Thomas' ear, slowly losing coordination as lights pop in his eyes, already working against the lights of the show. Guy thinks it's crazy, and vaguely pins it on his first trip with this stuff. The worst thing he's does is weed, and that's manageable. Guy can easily maintain consciousness on that. Thomas' hands tighten on his hips and Guy feels constricted, squirming in his grip and pressing against him in the process. As uncomfortable as the hold is making him, he still wants to be close to Thomas. There's a voice in his ear, fluid like water rushing by when you submerge and he knows it belongs to Thomas.

"Let's go home," it says, quiet. Guy doesn't know how he can hear it over the noise of the music and people, the heavy thumping bass that pops a new color into his vision like a paintball.

Ecstasy is a drug for bonding, Pedro had once told him, standing sober with Guy by the bar while they had watched Thomas bounce around talking to people. Guy had pouted and nursed his drink, glaring at the girl who had kissed Thomas' ear after talking to him. People want to be together, expend their energy with a partner, Pedro had continued. Even if Thomas had brushed her off, looked back at Guy, and smiled like a dopey puppy, Guy had still been jealous. He would never be able to give Thomas something he wanted unless he fell into the trip with him.

Guy clutched to Thomas' arm as he pulls him from the crowd, squeezing and releasing his bicep over and over. The cold air feels like needle pricks on his face, the street lights glow with halos like angels, and Guy missing his fur coat from when they'd been working with Branco. Thomas let's him go to walk down the sidewalk, back toward their apartment, stumbling over his feet. Guy chases after him, his depth perception throwing him off. He reaches for Thomas three times before he finally grabs the back of his shirt, thinking he's in front of him every time.

"Can I fuck you?" his mouth supplies, the words making his tongue feel heavy. In Thomas' presence he feels companionship, but he thinks that if he was alone he would crave a friend to speak with. They have always had a way of being able to say very little and still be comfortable.

Thomas giggles like a schoolgirl and his bleach blonde locks remind Guy of Shirley Temple and he wants to touch them. "No! No, I get to fuck you." He covers his mouth with long fingers that catch Guy's attention and he laughs again. Guy suddenly doesn't mind that he won't get what he wants; Thomas' fingers in his ass are plenty.

The approach where they have to cross the street. There's little traffic at this time of night so Guy isn't worried, but he still checks both ways. A truck is coming in the distance so he holds Thomas' wrist for a moment, keeping him on the sidewalk. Thomas rocks on his heels impatiently before turning quickly to Guy.

"If you beat me across the street you can fuck me." It's too fast for Guy to understand and then Thomas is moving. "Ready, GO!"

Guy watches Thomas launch himself across the street and the truck horn that blared in his brain makes him want to rip his skull open. Thing shake and blur and Guy only sees Thomas, stopped, illuminated in the middle of the street like a target, ready to be hit. He moves without thinking, throwing himself into the street after Thomas. The truck sounds again and Guy wants to implode and watch his brain blow into chunks across the street. But Thomas is still too far, even impaired he knows it. He doesn't let his body fool him.

Wind whistles, the truck sounds again, and Guy collides with Thomas' solid form, throwing them both forward and out of the way, tumbling into the gutter. The splash in the drain water, heads knocking together and against the black top. Guy thinks he may have cracked his skull if the burst of pain in the back of his head is anything to go by. They roll until they stop and the entire experience is more sobering than anything Guy has ever done.

Thomas blinks up at him, eyes wide and focused. It's over. Guy sees something splash onto his cheek and only does the change in Thomas' expression alert him that he's crying. He crumples and his arms give out from under him, dropping him against Thomas' chest. He shudders and a sob quakes through him as Thomas' hand rests on his back. They're laying in rainwater in a dirty gutter, bleeding and shaking. Guy shakes his head against Thomas' chest and pushes himself up, inhaling sharply.

"Never again, you understand me?" Thomas' eyes widen again. "Never again! You fucking take another pill ever again and were done!" Thomas nods quickly, flinching minutely every time one of Guy's tears drops onto his cheeks. "I can't lose you, Thomas; never again." Thomas bites his lip and nods, quiet as Guy collapses again.

It takes them ten minutes to collect themselves and climb up and back onto the sidewalk. Their clothes are ruined with the dirty water and Guy is glad. He wants to burn every detail from this night. He clutches Thomas' hand the whole way home; in the door, up the stairs, into the apartment, not letting go until he shuts the door of their bedroom and tells Thomas to strip.

He rides Thomas slow and paced, feeling his stomach churn with arousal and heat, gripping the base of his cock when he gets close. Thomas moans his name, bucks into him, squirms and touches him all over. He asks to switch positions at one point and Guy slaps him across the face. Thomas whines and thrust into him. He comes before Guy and it feels like opening a fire hydrant when he finally comes. It leaves him breathless and exhausted, more drained than the trip. Thomas hides his face in his neck when Guy settles next to him, his hand gripping too tight in his hair.

He says 'I love you' into his neck until he passes out, shuddering cold against Guy. Guy doesn't answer him and promptly shaves his head that morning before Thomas wakes up, hands shaking. He slides into a hoodie and sweatpants and sits at the breakfast bar, hood up and pulled tight, waiting for Thomas to wake up.

The door to their room opens with a quiet squeak and Guy doesn't move.

"Good morning," Thomas hums softly, voice rough with sleep.

"Morning," Guy replies, maybe a bit more clipped than he would have preferred. Thomas' feet pad quietly across the wooden floor of their apartment, sticking a bit as he approaches Guy.

"I had this crazy dream I nearly died; you ever have ones like that?" His hand rests atop Guy's head and he pulls back the hood, kissing the top of his head. He blinks when he's met with a no hair that he loves to admire. The most hair is bare peach fuzz and Thomas swallows.

"W-What brought this about-"

"It wasn't a dream," Guy mutters, lifting his empty cereal bowl to his lips to drink the rest of the milk. He sets it down with a clack and Thomas jumps a bit, pulling his hands back to himself. He cracks his knuckles once, twice, three times and Guy stands. He carries his bowl to the sink as he speaks. "You nearly got hit by a truck because you were tripping on ecstasy." He lifts his head and the band aids across the back of his head shift. "I pushed you out of the way to save your life." He drops the bowl into the sink with a clatter that does make Thomas jump. Guy has come down from his high without side effects. Thomas is itching for another fix.

Guy lifts a hand to push back his hair and scowls as he drops it flat to run over his head, gingerly touching over the band aids and dried blood. He doesn't mention it just yet.

"I- I don't know what you want me to say, Guy..." Thomas twitches and glances at him again, eyes darting over his head and then back to him. "Are you alright...?"

"I cracked my head when we rolled out of the way. I can't recount the whole things for you in extensive detail if you forgot. It was a very vivid experience." Thomas pales, he can hear the harshness in Guy's voice. Guy scowls and turns away, biting his lip st the satisfying gasp Thomas makes when he sees his head. "I made you swear off of it. You agreed."

"Guillaume-!"

"Don't fucking 'Guillaume' me, Thomas!" Guy slams his hands on the counter, still refusing to look at Thomas. Thomas makes a quiet noise and Guy exhales through his nose. "I can't watch that happen again," he murmurs, curling his hands on the counter. "I- fuck you," he spits and Thomas whines. "If you want to keep doing it then get out. And don't come back. That's your ultimatum, Thomas. It's me or the ecstasy."

There's silence behind him and Guy hesitates, considering for a moment that Thomas is going to disappoint him and leave. He stiffens and wraps his arms around his middle, inhaling carefully. Right then. That's that.

"Guillaume. I'm not going to leave you."

Guy squeezes his eyes shut. "You can't do this to me again, Thomas. I can't- I won't be able to live knowing I let you-"

Thomas moves quickly and holds him as he dissolves into tears, sobbing like a child who scraped their knee. Thomas doesn't say a word, simply kisses the top of his head with a quiet noise and Guy sniffs into his chest, guiding his arms around his waist.

"You aren't going to want me without it," he rushes, the comedown from the drug already visible in his voice and actions. Guy shivers and pushes him away.

"I want you normal," he bites out, watching his feet. Thomas chews the inside of his cheek, popping his knuckles again and shifting his weight. "I want you back to last year before you started this shit. I want to suffer through your detox and withdrawal than deal with your highs and lows." He serious and doesn't intend to beat around the bush. Thomas needs this smacked into his skull. Guy looks up at him, gaze hard and Thomas flinches, looking up with his mouth hanging open, licking over his teeth. "Do you understand me?"

Thomas drops his head and nods quickly, sucking on his tongue. "Yeah, yeah," he says noncommittally. Guy glared and he whines again. "Yes, Guillaume, okay. I'll stop okay, I promise." His voice softens when he speaks next and Guy feels his chest tighten. He doesn't know what to believe.

"I don't want to lose you. Not like you almost lost me." Thomas reaches out for his hand, brushing over his knuckles. "Knowing that you're still here and I'm not with you..." He looks down at him, eyes reminiscent of the night before when Guy had watched the brown hues shine like some kind of precious stone. Despite the unshed tears that make them shimmer, they look dull, like a dead leaf off a tree with no proper crisp crunch. Guy remembers the day they meant and how Thomas' eyes had sparkled with life. Guy doesn't want to lose that.

"Do you love me," he states, not posing it as a question.

"Yes." Thomas doesn't hesitate. Guy hates how concentrated he looks. Like his mind is pulling at him, dragging him away from the conversation, begging him to look at something more interesting than the short bald man who doesn't even begin to resemble a girl anymore.

"I will give my everything to help you, Thomas, but you have to want to help yourself."

The conversation ends there. They hover in each other's space a bit longer before Guy sends him away, moving to deal with his bowl from breakfast. He cleans it easily before setting it aside on a towel to dry. Thomas has wandered toward the window, sitting in the sill of it. He slumps over the knee he draws up to his chest and Guy observes him observing the outside.

"Would you like something to eat?"

"No."

The reply is quick and clipped. Guy's biggest fear is Thomas' refusal of food. He's lost fifteen pounds in one period before. Guy doesn't want to know what will happen now.

"Do you wanna fuck?"

Guy blinks at the question; Thomas is rarely so straightforward.

"We just had sex last night-"

"Don't remember. Do you want to or not?"

Guy swallows. What else is he supposed to do?

"Sure."

Thomas turns off the lights, hiding Guy away in the darkness. The blinds are shut and the little light that trickles in isn't enough for them to see each other. Thomas meant fuck when he proposed this. It fast and rough and Guy hisses in pain too many times with too little apologies. His ass aches when Thomas finishes and escapes for a shower, having expelled his energy in Guy. He sits there, uncomfortably hard, cum leaking from his ass- this is the first time Thomas has left him unfinished.

**  
**Guy cries himself soft and curls into the sheets of the bed, falling asleep before Thomas emerges in a cloud of steam. There's blood on the sheets when he wakes up, Thomas no where in sight. The friction opened the scab and Guy feels light headed as he stumbles to the bathroom to care for it. He needed an excuse to change them anyway.


End file.
